


Santa? Don't Forget the Grinch

by minneapvlis



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fluff without Plot, M/M, and it's cold out, answer: they'd watch the grinch, i got sidetracked while writing parkswin, so i thot, what would peter n eggsy do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 20:26:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minneapvlis/pseuds/minneapvlis
Summary: Eggsy decides winter is awful. Peter thinks otherwise.





	Santa? Don't Forget the Grinch

**Author's Note:**

> for tiger

Eggsy decided that New York winters were too fucking cold.

His jacket was zipped up to his chin, scarf wrapped around the bare parts of his skin that his Patagonia mercilessly left exposed to the frigid air. His toes were already falling off, one by one, turning into little ice cubes in his socks. Eggsy’s mitten-clad hands were shoved under his armpits in a feeble attempt to get any warmth back into his fingertips. It didn’t work, and he just ended up scowling at the icy steps on his front porch. The breeze picked up, a flurry of snow swirling around them as the air vacuum sucked it inwards. The snow blanketed everything - thin, but pillowy - layering on top of cars, fences, and bare tree branches.

“I regret this, we’re going back inside,” Eggsy said hastily, his shoulders shoved up to his ears. Peter had dragged him outside, whining about how the snow was too perfect to waste indoors. Plus, the neighbors had just put up their Christmas lights that morning, and Peter was a sucker for lights. _(“The Grinch had a strong impression on me as a kid, alright?”)_ Eggsy watched as Peter rattled against the piercing breeze, seemingly unbothered as he tugged a soft knit hat down over his chestnut hair. Eggsy’s street was calm, and all but silent this time of night, the small, comfortable little houses settled into the snow the way one settles into soft, velvet pajamas. It was dark, just the street lamps and the scattered Christmas lights light giving off a soft, orange glow. Eggsy thought it accentuated Peter’s bone structure and the curve of his nose rather nicely, but only he had to know that.

Peter yanked on his elbow, tugging him down the stairs as quick as he could without sending them both tumbling down the treacherous terrain. He made a mental note to buy salt next time he was out otherwise it was going to be one hell of a winter if Eggsy was slipping up the steps every time he tried to shove his shitty, old key into the lock. “C’mon, Eggsy. It’ll be fun,” Peter asserted.

“It’s too late for this. And I’m gonna get frostbite.” Eggsy tried to stand his ground, he really did, but Peter effortlessly pulled him across the ice. He silently prayed that the kid didn’t get any bright ideas to slap on a pair of skates and carve up and down the front walk.

“No you won’t, you’re just being a baby.”

“I’m not a baby, I’m a rational human being.”

“You’re being a baby.”

Eggsy sighed. “Yeah, well, you’re going to be the one paying my medical bill in an hour when my ears turn purple snap off,” he grumbled, stumbling into the snow when Peter made a sharp turn into the yard.

Peter freed Eggsy to bend over and scoop up a handful of snow. “Should have worn a hat,” he shrugged. He patted his hands together in an attempt to ball it up but the snow wasn’t wet enough and little pieces merely ended up sticking to the yarn on his mittens. Eggsy would have laughed at how distraught he looked if he wasn’t so grumpy about being outside in the first place. Peter tried again and again, only to end up with a growing mass of crumbled snow piles scattered about the yard. Eggsy watched as he ran from spot to spot, struggling to find any snow that was better than the last. Each was a complete and total failure, Peter’s spirits tanking so quickly that Eggsy could practically hear him frowning.

He was smug.

“Give up,” Eggsy declared after a few minutes of fruitless effort, wanting nothing more than to go back inside. A fleece blanket, hot cocoa, footwarmers. Absolute fucking paradise. Peter tactfully ignored him, leaving Eggsy to freeze as his back slowly tensed into a rigid slab. He glowered at Peter in silent refusal to participate in his antics. Peter glared right back at him, eyes narrowed, then continued his hunt. He was determined, Eggsy had to give him that.

“You are such a grinch, you know that?” Peter’s voice sounded muffled under the wool scarf that had come loose around his neck and bunched up in front of his nose instead. Eggsy was fairly certain that Peter had crocheted it himself.

“I’m rational. How many times do I have to tell you?”

“More than twice.”

Eggsy huffed, his breath coming out in icy plumes. He dragged his mittens down his face, pulling his eyelids down ghoulishly. 

“Listen, let’s just go back inside and get some hot cocoa, then we can both be happy and the cold can stay outside where it bel-” _splat._ He was rudely cut off by a lethal wad of snow nailing him square in the gut. Eggsy’s hands reflexively flew out far too late in an attempt to block the snowball. He blanched at Peter, wide-eyed. Peter grinned from ear to ear and waved a soaked mitten, the wool sadly flopping into a droopy frown. Peter had found a successful pile after all.

Eggsy took off, quite literally leaving a dusty cloud of snow in his wake while Peter hightailed it the other way, laughing. They went in circles, Eggsy catching drifts and almost falling everytime Peter scrambled to change his escape route. The air felt cold in his throat and he started to get a little winded after a mere minute of cat and mouse. He gained just enough ground, launched, and caught Peter’s ankle, sending them both tumbling face first into the thick sheet of snow. 

“Let me go!” Peter laughed, clawing at the ground and trying to wiggle himself free to no avail. Eggsy was sure that there was snow somewhere in his pants and his boots had definitely been falsely advertised as winter freeze repellent. Still, he ignored it and heaved Peter’s body closer to him.  
“This is what you get for forcing me to come outside,” he complained. The neighborhood was quiet; the only noise for a mile was their boisterous, young laughter absorbed by the snow. He dragged himself closer using Peter’s leg, inches from a successful pin-down. Victory meant that he could freeze Peter out, force him to go back inside where the central heating was sympathetically waiting for him.

Finally, Eggsy had him. His mittens latched onto Peter’s leg like an alligator’s jaw around its prey. Peter wheezed, his eyes squeezing shut from laughing too hard. Both their stomachs were tight with the threat of giggling hiccups. Eggsy held Peter the best he could, considering all he had to work with were a glob of fingers and a thumb that had no traction. All Peter could do was shimmy around, managing to get his body turned with his back pressed into the snow. White powder stuck to tufts of brown hair that peaked out from under his hat and Eggsy blamed the dull street light for making him notice. Peter stopped long enough to peak his eyes open against the iridescent, city sky. 

For a heavy breath, the snow laden world was frozen. 

Peter looked up at Eggsy, his body going limp under the weight pressing him into the ground. He looked at Eggsy in a way that made his chest heavy and suddenly he could only think of everything.

They weren’t laughing anymore. 

They stared at each other, caught up in everything that was one another. Peter was under him, their bodies pressed together and despite the countless amounts of layers they had piled on Eggsy had never felt closer to him. His elbows were pressed into the snow, chest barely touching Peter’s and neither of them even attempted to move. The wet snow was starting to seep into his veins but Eggsy hardly noticed.

“Hey,” Peter said quietly, smiling.

“Hey,” Eggsy responded, even softer. 

Peter was there. Right there. All rosy cheeks and faultless like he is - like he’s always been. He’s a permanent fixture of stability in Eggsy’s otherwise less-than-stable existence. 

Peter is looking up at him, exposed and anything but uncomfortable and there’s that spark of affection that pokes at his chest with every other feeling that leaves his stomach a muddled pile of love. Then Peter cranes his neck and kisses him. It’s the most natural thing in the world to lean further into Peter’s body, it always has been. His mittens sink farther into the snow and Peter fumbles blindly to hold onto Eggsy. His entire world slows down, time soaking into his skin, a steady, unwavering presence. His mind goes blessedly still, empty of anything except for the taste of Peter’s mouth, the icy bump of their noses, the stray thought that there’s a reason they’ve come to this moment.

Eventually, the cold trickles back in - the snow mused around their bodies like Monet had taken care to paint this scene. Eggsy opens his eyes to find Peter looking at him with the softest, sappiest expression he’s ever seen on his face, eyes bright and lips slick and pink. Each kiss echoed within a shell of their first - nervous and comfortable and excited all at once. The tones of the earth sing to him softly, making a space for Peter within in Eggsy’s heart. He’s been there all along, really. A vacancy for a friend, a lover, to come home to. Maybe (big maybe, mind you) the cold wasn’t so bad.

__________________________________________________

 

“The animated version is terrible,” Eggsy declared later that night, cradling a cup of cocoa beneath his nose. Peter lay curled against his side, blanket thrown lazily over their bodies. 

“I don’t think it’s that bad,” Peter defended, Benedict Cumberbatch’s voice droning on about the spirit of Christmas. “I mean, Jim Carrey in the 2000 Grinch is extremely hard to top.” He was right, too, Jim had set the bar pretty high. Either way, It’s a Wonderful Life would always be the best Christmas movie. It was an indisputable fact that often led to some dinner table discourse around the holidays. 

“It’s bad. You know it’s bad and you’re just bullying me after I clearly suffered devastating New York winter-itis.” It took Eggsy an obscenely hot shower and fifteen minutes scrunched up in a comforter to even begin to feel his bones again. “Who ever said you even got to pick tonight?” 

“It’s not bad, you’re fine, and I get to pick because I have substantially better taste in movies than you,” Peter hummed, nudging his head further into the cozy nook he’d created against Eggsy’s side. 

“You do not have better taste in movies. This? Bad movie.”

“It’s not a bad movie,” Peter repeated. Eggsy didn’t even bother.

**Author's Note:**

> what's your favorite christmas movie?


End file.
